


Praeludium

by dhiskey, nodosenoatriale



Series: SAINT ACADEMY [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Injury, Brother/Brother Incest, Demons, Incest, Kinktober, M/M, Multi, Occult, Writober, Writober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhiskey/pseuds/dhiskey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nodosenoatriale/pseuds/nodosenoatriale
Summary: School. Demons have to go there too, just like humans. Unlike the rigid institutions of the latter, full of rules and prohibitions, at SAINT ACADEMY the boundary between what is right and wrong is definitely ... non-existent.The story is a collection of moments that introduce the characters and the settings of the SAINT ACADEMY series.saintacademy.carrd.co
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: SAINT ACADEMY [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944523
Kudos: 4





	1. Akriel

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Praeludium](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26718937) by [dhiskey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhiskey/pseuds/dhiskey), [nodosenoatriale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nodosenoatriale/pseuds/nodosenoatriale). 



Dawn raises pale. It bounces off the windowpane and refracts on the floor.  
A dim ray of light reaches up to the headboard of the bed. Akriel's face is invested with that hint of morning. The very clear lashes shine under the caress of the sun.  
  
The boy scratches the bridge of his nose. Sleepy, he shields the light with the palm of his hand. His eyes open lazily, blue and clear like the summer sky. If further confirmation was needed that demons descend from angels, his appearance would be proof of that.  
  
His gaze meets Mihr's tiny body curled up in the bed on the other end of the room.  
The light has not reached him yet. He is almost motionless, breathing erratically in the half-light.  
  
Defenceless, weak, fragile, all adjectives that suit him. Adjectives Akriel had only ever felt contempt for. After all, he has never experienced them on his skin. Winner in every aspect of existence, the most promising of Satan's offsprings, fated for immortality. He does not know the bitter taste of failure or the sour and sweet one of humiliation. He is known only for his own success, the admiration and envy of others.  
  
He sits up quietly. He gets up, dragging the sheet and lines up bare steps to reach his brother's bed.  
  
Mihr dozes slowly. His delicate features are relaxed and deep. His rosebud mouth is open and bubbled. Death might surprise him at that very moment, and he would cease to live without even realising it.  
  
Its existence is a disgrace to the family, generated by ancient and powerful magic yet so incapable and inept. If Akriel broke his neck now, all the suffering of the pathetic life that awaits him would be spared. But he can't.  
  
He touches the pink skin of Mihr's face; it is still soft and childish. Akriel does not recall the moment when the features of that face became his weakness. Perhaps his brother was only five when he felt his loins ablaze and the excruciating urge to join that innocent body.  
  
Mihr doesn't wake up, not even when Akriel traces his body with his fingertips. He tickles and probes, with big hands, the transparent pink tank top worn by the boy. He had chosen it especially for him, that colour matches his brother's complexion.  
  
Akriel lifts the fabric of the top, delightfully fitted into the matching shorts. He uncovers his belly marked by multiple seals, his own. Mihr is no more of himself. He belongs to his brother and rightly so because, without him, he would be already dead.  
  
The older demon bites his mouth. He has just cleared the fog of sleep and already feels the fire crackle in his belly, and to say that his characterising element is ice. Perhaps, come to think of it, it is just the right affinity because the desire he feels certainly burns more than the flames.  
  
With a quick and brusque gesture, he grabs a fistful of golden hair, lifting his brother's head. Mihr protests, awakened by the rude and painful gesture. Akriel looks at him from above, beautiful and rugged. The little boy's eyes are still full of dreams he won't remember. They tear and shine, piqued by that violent treatment. Akriel strengthens his grip on the boy’s locks and pushes him against his groin. The fabric of the pants is tight, and it coarsely conceals the overbearing erection.  
  
"Good morning slut, do I have to remind you of your morning duties?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Follow @dhiskey_nil](https://twitter.com/dhiskey_nil?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)   
>  [Follow @nodosenoatriale](https://twitter.com/nodosenoatriale?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)


	2. Scar

Someone knocks on the door and Scar lets out a sigh of relief. Finally an excuse to abandon one of the most convoluted and boring readings in the history of the underworld.  
  
He folds a corner of the page, closing “Alchimia: equivalent exchanges” and leaving it on the unmade bed. The tome raises a small cloud of dust upon landing, testifying to how little it has been leafed through and read.  
  
He opens the door of the room he shares with Piros, expecting to find the latter at the door, but Kage's arrogant smile appears in front of him.  
  
“Hey.” He murmurs listlessly, annoyed by the thought that Piros will most likely be late this time too.  
  
“Where's the carrot top? I have to talk to him.”  
  
“Can’t say hello?” Scar doesn't want to sound so annoyed, but he can’t help it. It is definitely a no day.  
  
“H-hi, Scar.”  
  
Ah, that expression of awe disturbs him as much as it flatters him. Kage's freckles are hypnotic when highlighted by the blush on his face.  
  
“That’s better. He’s not here anyway.” His tone is a little softer.  
  
“Where is he then?”  
  
“Do I look like his nanny?”  
  
Kage chuckles and shrugs. Scar would like to bite those freckles off now, but he forces himself to remain calm. After all, it is one of his best virtues.  
  
“I get it, he could be in anyone's bed. I'll never find him.”  
  
“Get out of my way, I'm busy.” Scar reproaches him in an authoritarian way, eager to put an end to that silly conversation.  
  
Kage stares at him and it looks like he's about to make another joke. He just needs to raise an eyebrow to see him swallow and hurry away.  
  
Scar closes the door and goes back to his reading.  
  
When he is awakened by the rustle of the sheets beside him he looks at the clock on the bedside table: 3:00 am.  
  
“You’re coming back later and later.”  
  
Piros rubs against his side, finding a place in the hollow between torso and arm. His skin is smooth and warm, it exudes Vis in an almost palpable way and Scar tastes its flavor as the energy flows from one to the other thanks to the sharing seal that Piros himself gave him years ago.  
  
“Don't be jealous.” The succubus jokes.  
  
“I'm not.” And usually he's not a liar too, but apparently…  
  
“Kage was looking for you before.” He changes the subject before delving into reflections that make him feel like a first-rate idiot.  
  
“I don't care about Kage, I want to know why you have such a long face.”  
  
“Because you woke me up in the middle of the night, maybe?!”  
  
“Scar...”  
  
The demon snorts, looking at the ceiling. “Remember the book about alchemy?” Piros nods. “Another hole in the water.”  
  
“What did you expect from a volume written three thousand years ago?”  
  
“Nothing.” The word almost comes out like a snarl from Scar's lips. He is tired of living with his father's seal which halves his powers and invalidates his ability to store Vis. He is tired of taking the latter from Piros, like a parasite.  
  
“We'll find something that works, I'm sure. We are among the smartest in school, after all.”  
  
Scar nods unconvinced, pressing himself against Piros' lean and supple body.  
  
A small moan accompanies the sweet smell of peach that spreads in the air. Scar's body responds to that fragrance immediately and overwhelmingly.  
  
“Haven't you had enough yet?” He grunts as Piros climbs his body to ride him.  
  
“Of you, never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Follow @dhiskey_nil](https://twitter.com/dhiskey_nil?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)   
>  [Follow @nodosenoatriale](https://twitter.com/nodosenoatriale?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)


	3. Kage

The shadow envelops him, dense and static. Having his eyes closed or open makes no difference when Kage is in his dimension of silence and darkness. It is not the sight that guides him, but the shadow itself, tyrant and ally at the same time.  
  
The shadow embraces him, makes him forget why he disappeared into his personal black hole. He does not want to think about it, and the darkness sneaks impalpable into the furrows of his cerebral cortex, scratching, dirtying, consuming.  
  
Kage inhales deeply, unhealthy, oxygen-free air, lethal to anyone other than a demon of darkness. He has fantasised several times about dragging Akriel into the void, seeing him agonise and suffocate, but never like today that desire pounds overwhelmingly in his inky chest.  
  
Akriel would never be caught off guard, not by him. He is too powerful, too cunning. The same reasons why Kage can't really hate and curse him as he would like.  
  
He sighs.  
  
It's time to leave nowhere and return to reality.  
  
The room is not dark as he left it but flooded with light. The sun invades it with arrogance, windows wide open and shutters ajar. He has to cover his eyes with an arm, the glare reflected on the surfaces is intolerable.  
  
“Oops, I always forget that you are sensitive to light.”  
  
Akriel's voice is serious, but the sarcasm is still palpable. Kage snorts and swears, trudging to the nearest window with his eyes closed. He won't ask for help, the last thing he wants is to show himself in trouble in front of him, weak.  
  
“What are you doing here?” He questions abruptly while fighting with the shutters of the second window.  
  
“I'm making sure you've lost the desire to make a scene.”  
  
Kage whirls around. The room is dim enough now that he no longer has to shield his eyes, so he gives him a sharp, resentful look.  
  
“I wouldn't have made a scene if you had told me that this year you are sharing a room with that piece of junk brother of yours before I found out for myself!”  
  
Akriel gets up and joins him before Kage can register the movement. He finds himself with his back arched, one arm twisted behind his shoulders and Akriel's hand gripping his neck almost taking his breath away.  
  
“Watch your mouth,” the latter admonishes him from behind his back. The grip on his neck tightens, ripping out a strangled gasp.  
  
“I don't have to inform you of anything. From this year we will no longer be roommates because Mihr is here, I decided so.” He continues, staring him in the eyes from above. “Make sure you get over it, or I might get pissed off. And I'm already halfway there after that pitiful scene in the corridor this morning.”  
  
When he lets go, Kage takes a couple of shaky steps forward, hands on his neck, his breathing frantic and whistling.  
  
Akriel smiles, sitting up on his new roommate's untouched bed.  
  
“What’s his name?”  
  
“B-Bijela, ice demon ... a-anarchist spirit, I think...” Kage's voice is hoarse and scratchy, his throat burns with every passage of air.  
  
Akriel chuckles. “What a good boy, you did your homework. Now come here and get fucked on your new friend's bed, how about it?”  
  
Kage would like at least to hesitate, to enforce his discontent, but the truth is that he has never been able to say no to Akriel, especially when desire takes control of his every thought, every ounce of willpower.  
  
As he reaches for him, he realises he feels relieved.  
  
He doesn't want him as a roommate anymore, but at least he's not fed up with him. Better than nothing, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Follow @dhiskey_nil](https://twitter.com/dhiskey_nil?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)   
>  [Follow @nodosenoatriale](https://twitter.com/nodosenoatriale?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)


	4. Piros

“Can you be a little careful? I’m getting ash in my hair!” Piros protests, shaking his head.  
  
“Blame your clever mouth, little one.” Lyar responds with a subtle grin, pulling away the hand  
limply holding the lit cigarette. A sinuous trail of smoke follows that gesture.  
  
Piros easily gives in to flattery, it’s his weak point. “Do you like it?”  
  
“Oh, yes...”  
  
Although they are both succubi, and therefore there is no Vis to be gained through sex, they  
both enjoy spending time together from time to time. Lyar is really handsome: tall, long dark  
hair, reddish irises, sensual mouth; plus he's a teacher of SAINT Academy, so someone  
Piros can only learn from.  
  
“You know,” Lyar begins after Piros resumes licking his erection, “you remind me of a human  
I went with years ago. Red hair, freckles, firm ass. It was his first time and, by Lucifer, his  
virginity gave me Vis to spare.”  
  
“I bet he wasn't as good at blowjobs as I am, if it was his first time.” Piros comments sharply,  
finding a way to speak without detaching his lips from the teacher's sex.  
  
“No, but humans are different. You'll find out one day.”  
  
At those words, Piros stops, sitting on his heels and raising his head to look curiously at  
Lyar.  
  
“Does having sex with them give you more Vis?”  
  
“Much more.” The teacher answers him with his lips folded in a smile that seems perennial.  
  
“And then? What else?”  
  
“I told you, you'll find out for yourself. Don't be impatient.”  
  
Piros nods and goes back to sucking.  
  
The rest of the day passes quickly enough, and after the end of lessons Piros goes to the  
library like every afternoon to study with Scar. He finds him at their usual table, in the far  
right corner by the window overlooking the courtyard.  
  
He doesn't look up from the book he's reading when he sits down next to him.  
  
“I have a question.” He says in a low voice, hitting him softly with his elbow to get his  
attention.  
  
“Mmh.”  
  
  
“Have you ever met a human?” He asks cautiously, looking around first to make sure no one  
hears them. It is forbidden for students to come into contact with earthlings, after all. But they  
are still demons, and rules are meant to be broken.  
  
Scar looks at him through a crack between his lids, the scarred scratch on the right side of  
his face in plain sight.  
  
“What the fuck is that question? Do you have one of your crazy ideas in mind?” He hisses.  
  
“I have nothing in mind, relax. It's just that Lyar told me humans give more Vis, so–”  
  
“No. Forget it.”  
  
Piros hates it when Scar is stubborn like this. He wants to try helping him break the seal that  
weakens him and gets only snorts and denials in return.  
  
“You risk expulsion for such things. I can't afford it.”  
  
Piros raises both hands in surrender.  
  
“You know, sometimes it would do you good to be a little selfish.”  
  
“I am a demon, I was born selfish.”  
  
“You know what I mean.”  
  
Scar ignores him and goes back to reading his book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Follow @dhiskey_nil](https://twitter.com/dhiskey_nil?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)   
>  [Follow @nodosenoatriale](https://twitter.com/nodosenoatriale?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)


	5. Mihr

Icarus, a fool. Flying higher and higher, defying the sun with those ridiculous wings.  
Mihr, however, can only sympathize. He would give his life to reunite with his element, air. He cannot defeat the fever of flying, the desire to soar free.  
He has a pair of real wings, too bad he's broken, a defective demon.  
His magic is insignificant, and his wings do not sprout on command, as his brother's do.  
  
Mihr climbs the spire on the west wing of the academy with his bare hands; he is, indeed, as silly as Icarus.  
  
When he reaches the top, his palms are bloody. The blond hair is drenched in sweat and gathered in locks against the forehead. The air hugs his wet, shivering body. Adrenaline flows like poison. It traps the sense of danger and pushes him to stand on the highest point of the pinnacle. Small hands cling to the inverted metal cross. He sways dangerously under a violent gust.  
  
Mihr has purple lips from cold and exertion. The air rips the tears from his eyes.  
He smiles, mad and stubborn. Fuck school, fuck Akriel and fuck Satan, his father. He will prove to everyone that he is neither unworthy nor pathetic.  
  
The time of a breath and the fingertips loosen their grip on the iron structure. If Mihr were a human, it would take 4.5 seconds to crash to the ground with a speed of 25 mph. But, however weak, he is still an air demon. The wind envelops and sucks him in, cuddles him as he falls. It won't be enough to stop him from crashing; his magic isn't powerful enough to bring him back to the ground unharmed.  
  
The instinct of self-preservation, however, is a primary force that prevails even in the weaklings.  
Mihr knows it well, it's the only way he knows to get his wings out.  
His body heats up like a red-hot brand, and excruciating pain breaks his back.  
The explosive sound of broken bones and torn flesh is deafening in the wind. Mihr screams as a pair of feathered, blood-dripping appendages spread from his back.  
  
The wings open, rusted, correcting the flight path a few centimetres above the ground.  
The kid's knees grate on the asphalt of the driveway.  
A small group of students walks away caught off guard. Many complain aloud, they are covered in blood splashed by the flapping of wings. Eyes full of amazement, curiosity, fun accompany Mihr in his awkward ascent to the sky.  
  
He gasps in pain as his dismembered body is literally dragged upward. The excruciating suffering, which is renewed with each flap of wings, keeps him conscious.  
The seals on his skin, affixed by his brother to assert dominion and control, burn and vibrate, digging into his skin. Akriel will not be happy.  
  
But Mihr doesn't care about all of this. He smiles and, even though he might bleed to death, it doesn't matter because he's _flying_.

✠

"Stop playing hard to get. It's not that you're the only one with a cock in this school…"  
  
Akriel is about to retort Kage's irreverent words when he feels something wet on his cheek. He puts his fingers against his skin, and they turn bright red.  
Drops of blood falling free from the sky are an unusual phenomenon even for demons.  
He raises his eyes upwards, and he doesn't like what he sees at all.  
Under the astonished gaze of the other boy, he spreads his wings with ease. He seems to glow as he soars, majestic.  
  
He swears as he flaps his wings in the frantic chase of the newly spotted flying disaster. He has no doubt it's that little shit of his brother, Mihr.  
He has been in school for three weeks and is already causing havoc with his patheticness and need of attention. Oh well, he'll make him pay.  
  
He reaches the little boy in seconds. He can barely fly with a body so profoundly injured. When Mihr notices his brother's presence, he tries to escape, but Akriel tackles him from behind by putting an arm around his neck.  
  
Mihr flaps his wings like a madman, but Akriel presses his forearm against his trachea.  
  
"If you don't stand still, I'll tear off these disgusting cherub wings of yours."  
  
His brother knows that Akriel would be fully capable of it, he keeps slamming them weakly just to keep himself in mid-air.  
  
"Now let's land, and I'll take you to the infirmary." says the older, loosening his grip on the boy's neck.  
  
"I want to fly more..."  
"You're bleeding to death."  
"I don’t care."  
  
Akriel hugs his brother's body by grabbing him by the groin and surrounding him over one shoulder.  
  
"Don't flap your wings; I’ll fly for both of us."  
  
The older one, holding his brother close, pushes himself upwards.  
  
"I see that the seals I put on you weren't enough to stop you from doing stupid things."  
  
Akriel feels his chest wet with his brother's blood. He has to hurry. He arches his back and reverses direction, swooping towards the school.  
  
"I bet you're horny, you little crap. Mortally wounded and flying, aren't those your favourite things? "  
  
His hand moves explicitly to the sex of the boy. The erection that hides in the shorts is barely hinted at, but it is there and stretches the fabric. Mihr moans as they fall upside down to the ground, the wind makes both ears ring.  
  
Akriel breathes smugly, and the air smells of the blood they are both covered in by now.  
An instant before spreading his wings to glide, he blows in his ear: "You own me a blow job, you'll have to make up for this mess."

✠

Piros intermittently lights a worn-out candle, melted against the surface of the picnic table. He curls a bored lock of red hair and, with his mouth, inflates a bubble made of chewing gum.  
  
"Sto .."  
The words die in the mouth of the big dark-haired boy sitting with Piros at the table, Scar.  
  
Akriel is a troublemaker but seeing him covered in blood is still relatively rare.  
The two demons turn to watch the boy walk across the garden towards the entrance to the infirmary. He leaves a clear trail of blood behind him. He retracts his impressive wings with simplicity and loads a helpless little body wrapped in scarlet feathers on one shoulder.  
  
"What the fuck did he do to his little brother!" Piros exclaims, jumping to his feet. The candle flame flares up and reaches out threateningly.  
  
"If I know them well, I bet it was that brat who got in trouble."  
  
Mihr seems harmless, but he is annoying, unpredictable and what's more Akriel carries him around like a pet. Piros has yet to learn how irritating that brat can be.  
Scar returns to his book, bothered by the commotion that has arisen among the other students.  
  
Akriel has a decent circle of annoying admirers. If there's something Scar hates, it's idolatries. It may seem strange said by someone enrolled in a school devoted to the cult of its creator, Satan, but the truth is that he never had a choice.  
  
"Cunts."  
  
Kage sits at their table, throwing his canvas bag without regard.  
His presence suffocates the oxygen for an instant, and the candle flame burns out, intimidated. His face is dirty with blood, and after a careful look, his dark clothes are also stained.  
  
Scar gives him a small smile as a greeting.  
Piros nods, he can only agree with his friend. Eccentrically, he leans over to seek a kiss from the boy who has just arrived. Kage ignores him, serious, and turns to Scar.  
  
"The Ludus starts in less than a month. I don't think it's wise getting attention by dropping blood all over the fucking school. Make sure you talk to Akriel. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Follow @dhiskey_nil](https://twitter.com/dhiskey_nil?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)   
>  [Follow @nodosenoatriale](https://twitter.com/nodosenoatriale?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)


End file.
